Cymbeline
by Myaru
Summary: FE10, gen. Before the events of Radiant Dawn, Sanaki receives one last gift from her mentor.


**Cymbeline  
By:** Amber Michelle

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_Somewhat related to "Promises Made of Glass," but they don't have to be read together._

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Domes and canopies of cherry blossoms stretched over the garden path, still several inches over Sanaki's head, though she was tall enough to stretch her arm and pluck a blossom if she wanted to. Sephiran had to duck his head to walk under some of the branches. White and pink blotted out the vivid blue sky, and a dusting of petals settled on his black hair like snowflakes, catching between the strands, sliding down, fluttering free again to litter the flagstone walk. He let her hold his hand as they walked so she wouldn't trip or wander off the path while she looked up, and every few minutes he would murmur that she should watch where she was walking-- it may be their day off, but who knew which senator would have the gall to interrupt her vacation today? Someone always did. Last week it was Seliora with a complaint about the resources she'd steered away from Daein - as if the country's output wasn't unusually high for a post-war economy - and the last week had been spent deciding who would go to Crimea for the anniversary of Queen Elincia's coronation, which they were obligated to acknowledge. She sent Lekain, but he would no doubt be by within the day to whine about the impossibility of leaving.

"Can I order them not to talk?" Sanaki asked when they left the cover of the cherry trees and walked under the clear sky. Their perfume followed her, curling around her arms and under the hem of her skirt to tickle her ankles. "For-- a week?"

Sephiran tried to sigh, but she knew he smiled even without looking up. He had a dozen different sighs - annoyed, put-upon, unhappy with her choice in suitor, amused - and this one sounded like a laugh. "You can try," he said. His fingers curled slightly around hers. "It wouldn't be the strangest thing you've demanded of them."

She lengthened her stride because he was a step ahead of her, and the way he inclined his head to look at her-- "You're making fun of me."

"Not at all." He didn't bother to hide his smile. "You've always been a good child, but you had your moments."

Child. She wasn't a child. Not anymore. He even said so on her birthday. Had he forgotten in only two days? "Funny, I hear the others accuse me of being a spoiled brat when they think I can't hear."

Sephiran turned his attention back to the path and pulled her down a branch that would lead back to the palace. Maples shaded them, then stone overhangs spilling ivy over their rails, and the scent of lamp oil and polish replaced the sweetness of cherry blossoms. He didn't really give her an answer - only asked if she'd heard the common saying _it takes one to know one_, which Sanaki hadn't heard in quite those terms. There should be a more elegant way to put it - at the very least a philosophical phrasing, like _one always hates that which is like oneself_. They went up three flights of stairs and far into the west wing until they reached his quarters and went inside. Sigrun and another of the holy guard abandoned an errand on the second floor to follow Sanaki and station themselves outside the door.

"I have another gift for you," he said when she asked why they'd come, and he told her to sit at the breakfast table while he went to fetch it. Sanaki watched him disappear past his bedroom door and heard something rustle. The chocolates he brought back from Persis for her birthday were now arranged in a fan on a crystal platter with a clear, domed lid she lifted to reach for one. It chimed when she put it back down, and she let the blossom-shaped chocolate melt on her tongue while she watched the maples sway outside, scattering sunlight and shadows on the sheer curtains.

Was she spoiled? Sephiran didn't always give her what she wanted. He wouldn't be a gentleman and kiss her; he wouldn't buy her trinkets, or flowers, or dresses; he insisted she study even after a long day in the council chamber, when she'd rather throw herself onto the divan and make him read something to her; he never sang for her - never, not anymore, even when she reminded him of the times he'd done so when she was small. _You're imagining things_, he would tell her. _It must have been a pleasant dream - I never sing. My voice is terrible. You'd throw me into the dungeon for assaulting your ears_.

As if she would believe such a lie when heads turned every time he so much as opened his mouth - even to cough or sneeze.

_Ugh_. Sanaki let herself frown at the window. Sycophants. They weren't even women, some of them. Would the laguz start next?

A creak of the hinges drew her attention back to the bedroom door and Sephiran's entrance, one arm bent to hold something behind his back. She tilted her head. "A book."

His lips turned up at the corners. "You know me too well. What is the topic?"

Sanaki lifted her eyebrows. How should she know that? He didn't relent, though, didn't show her the book, though it looked heavy the way his arm sagged, then tensed up again. "Something relevant to my studies, am I right? Maybe... Abel's philosophy on impermanence. No?" Another smile, a real one, the kind where his eyes crinkled and glittered, like he was holding in a laugh. "Crimean statecraft? Something on the rise of the heretics we call our senate?"

Sephiran did laugh then-- and his arm dropped to his side, showing the deep, sanguine binding of a fire tome - one belonging to the greater art, for the basic tomes she'd always worked with were brighter, slimmer, and certainly not embossed with such fine calligraphy. He crossed the room and set it before her - the cover was beautiful, almost velvety, and still smelled of fresh leather. When he opened it and turned to the title page, the parchment was thick, cream, smooth as silk, and that was his handwriting--

"You've done so well in your studies I thought it was time to introduce you to the real thing." His fingers pressed the bow of the page down, slid along the spine, bent the parchment slightly so it would stay open. "The magic in this book has not been a part of normative study since the Elder days, but collections like this are still passed down along the older bloodlines."

The strength had gone out of her hands, but Sanaki managed to flatten the paper and sound the title out while her heart pattered in her throat - it was an odd word, not the sort of vocabulary she'd learned to study magic. "_Cymbeline_--?" She looked up.

"A king in the days before the flood - a patron of work just like this." A slight line creased the skin between Sephiran's brows, little more than a shadow. His fingertips lingered on the page. "We'll read dramas written during his era someday."

Sanaki pushed her chair back and stood up to hug him around the waist, her face hidden on his shoulder to conceal the hot, pricking sensation in her eyes that would probably turn into tears. She could keep it from her voice, but he read her expression as easily as a book at the worst times. "Thank you." Her arms tightened without her permission, trembling when he stroked her hair with one hand and returned the embrace.

"Better than chocolate?" he asked, and she nodded, even though it was a silly question. Sephiran sifted her hair with his fingers, pulling slightly. "I'm glad." More softly, he said, "I've always wanted to give you something eternal."

If he kept talking, she was going to cry. "You always say such odd things." He made a contemplative sound, the tone of his voice loud in his chest, louder than his heartbeat for just a minute - almost like a song. "Read it to me, Sephiran." His hand slowed, but he didn't stiffen up like he did when she asked him to sing. "Let me hear the magic in _your_ voice."

His hold tightened, the pressure of his arm so tight Sanaki could hardly draw a breath - but the moment passed, and Sephiran rubbed her back, perhaps in apology, his lashes swept low. "As you command."

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End file.
